


Tuesday Morning

by Luka



Series: University AU [2]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Professor Nick Cutter is not a happy man when a blast from his past returns.





	Tuesday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Long ago and far away, Rain_sleet_snow created a university AU in Primeval fanfic where Lester is deputy vice-chancellor, Ryan the head of security, Lorraine an economics lecturer and Sarah an Egyptology PhD candidate. I jumped into her sandpit, and a load of stories followed. Our stories are in the same universe, but we've kind of developed our own plot (in that there is much plot) lines! This fic is the second I created in the AU universe - there are more stories to follow. If you want to read Rain_sleet_snow's stories, she has them on her AO3 account under the Smart People series tag. To avoid confusion, I'm going to name my series as University AU. Original, or what!

Lorraine heard the kerfuffle before she saw it. She'd been busy mulling over her latest meeting with Caroline Steel and deciding how best to proceed. There was nothing as yet that she could nail the little madam on – so far it was all attitude and insinuations – but she'd bide her time with the student.

The row was in the courtyard behind the earth sciences building, and had already attracted a number of onlookers who were clearly amused by mad Professor Cutter going puce and his pretty other half Stephen Hart looking like he was about to lose his legendary cool.

The cause of their anger was a dark-haired woman who was leaning nonchalantly against a wall, arms folded, a smile playing around her lips. She wasn't exactly pretty, Lorraine noted absently, but she was very striking. Her clothes were functional rather than smart – a pale blue blouse, open several buttons down to reveal a highly-impressive cleavage that was giving some of the first year geology students a rabbit in headlights look. Her trousers were beige chinos, coupled with a pair of enviable brown ankle boots that looked like they'd cost as much as Lorraine's weekly salary.

"That student's going to need a rope and crampons if he gets much closer to her tits," observed Sarah, appearing at Lorraine's side.

"She's certainly an advert for push-up bras. Or something."

"I'd vote for the something. And what's she done to get Cutter so aereated?"

The professor was at full throttle now. Most of his words were unclear, but there appeared to be lots of Rs in them. 

"No idea," said Lorraine, wondering if she should wade in and persuade them to take the row somewhere more private, such as Cutter's office. Not that there was much room in there for anyone or anything beyond the professor and his research assistant. The last time Lorraine had been in there, she'd had to shout her invitation to dinner from the door, as they'd apparently been dismantling the skeleton of a woolly mammoth.

"What's going on?" Tom Ryan, the university head of security, came barrelling around the corner, several elderly security guards puffing and blowing in his wake.

"No idea," said Lorraine again, wondering why people always assumed she was in possession of all the facts when something was happening.

"It's the professor's ex-wife," said a passing administrator.

"I didn't know he had one."

"Oh yes!" The administrator jammed on the brakes, clearly relishing a fresh market for tittle-tattle. "There was a huge scandal about her. She taught here some years ago and was very well-regarded in her field. But it turned out she'd been sleeping with her students, including, apparently, Stephen Hart. And she suddenly started spouting all these nutty theories which were embarrassing the department."

"What sort of nutty theories?" asked Lorraine, intrigued. This was a university, for heaven's sake – the place was full of conspiracy theorists and eccentrics.

The woman shrugged. "Something to do with dinosaurs and time travel. Anyway, she resigned and saved everyone any more embarrassment."

"Where did she go?"

"Overseas on some big project, so people reckoned. But she's back now, working at the University of North Side. And she's the new external examiner."

"Oh. Shit." That explained a lot. Next to her, Sarah quirked an elegant eyebrow at Lorraine's rare use of a swearword.

"Shit," agreed the administrator.

"And they didn't think to tell Cutter or to check with HR first?"

"Of course not." The woman looked at her sorrowfully, clearly wondering why anyone should expect something so sensible to happen.

"Let me guess… The new dean and a load of blithering idiots on the Quality Assurance committee who didn't know, or who didn't care, about the past history.

"Exactly." The administrator smiled thinly, nodded to them and scuttled off to spread more gossip.

Ryan was looking at her quizzically, so Lorraine said: "Every course has to have an external examiner. They're usually academics from other universities who have to check the quality of all assessments and student work. They can make a lot of trouble if they're so minded."

"And the professor's ex-wife is likely to be so minded?"

"Sounds like it."

Ryan sighed. "OK, let's break up the bloody show. Mick, Tony…" he gesticulated to the security guards. "Get rid of the onlookers. Lorraine, give me a hand with Cutter and co."

Lorraine nodded. It had taken Ryan nearly six months and several dinner parties to stop calling her Dr Wickes. She'd wondered at first whether his relationship with James Lester, the deputy vice-chancellor, had made him even more formal than he'd been before.

Ryan strode across to where Stephen Hart had pushed himself between Cutter and his ex-wife. "Professor Cutter, Dr Hart… And Ms…?"

"Dr Cutter. Dr Helen Cutter. And who are you?" She undressed him frankly with her eyes.

"Tom Ryan. Head of university security. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me what all the shouting's about."

"Oh, nothing important, Mr Ryan. Or should I call you Tom?"

"Mr Ryan is good enough. Professor Cutter…?"

Cutter took a deep breath, running his fingers through his already chaotic hair. "Sorry, Ryan. We'll take this elsewhere."

"Might be better if you called a halt to it altogether," said Ryan mildly, but the look in his eyes suggested Cutter might be well advised to take his advice.

"Of course. Stephen, let's…" Cutter glared at his ex-wife, who was watching the whole show with evident amusement.

"Come with me, Nick. I need you to look at a book proposal for me," said Lorraine briskly. She was glad to note that Sarah, the only person who could coax small-talk from Stephen, had moved around to chivvy him along like a rather glamorous sheepdog.

Ryan threw her a look of approval and said: "Now, Dr Cutter, perhaps I can take you to where you need to be."

"Oh, I don't need to be anywhere, Mr Ryan. I've got everything I came for." She was positively purring.

Lorraine rolled her eyes. She was sure Dr Cutter had got exactly the result she'd been looking for.

*~*~*~

"I can't believe she had the nerve to accept the appointment!" Cutter slammed his drink down, sending Lorraine's wine glass skittering across the table. Stephen's long fingers snaked out and averted a disaster.

"Did you know she was back in the country?"

"No. Last I heard, and that was on a very wonky grapevine, was that she was working on some dig in South America."

They'd soon moved from Lorraine's office, where Cutter was far too agitated to look at the book proposal Lorraine genuinely did want him to read through. They were in different disciplines, but his extensive list of publications made him an ideal person to advise on Lorraine's first attempt to dip her toe into writing a book. Lorraine had driven them back to the flat where she'd rustled up pasta carbonara and left Sarah to deal with the drinks and make comforting small talk.

"When did she leave CMU?" asked Lorraine carefully.

"Eight years ago. Our marriage was on the rocks anyway, but I discovered she'd been sleeping with her students." Cutter, usually the least tactile of men, touched Stephen's hand briefly. "Nasty business all round, as she was hinting that it would affect their results if she didn't."

Stephen's high cheekbones were tinged pink, but he nodded. "And no one would have believed us," he said softly.

"How often did it happen?" asked Lorraine, wondering if she was pushing her luck.

"With me, once. But she'd slept her way through most of her PhD students, male and female, half of the MSc lot and was eyeing up the third years."

"Bloody hell." Lorraine wondered where the wretched woman had got the energy from. And the thought of sleeping with undergraduates, most of whom hadn't quite mastered the skills of personal hygiene, made her feel rather queasy. The whole issue, too, made Lorraine angry – lecturers sleeping with their students was an abuse of power and a sackable offence in most universities.

Cutter nodded. "I divorced her as quickly as I could. And I was delighted when she went abroad. I can't believe that those arseholes on the quality assurance committee nodded her through as our external examiner. And the bloody dean couldn't find his sodding arse with both hands and a roadmap."

Lorraine, who was on one of the big university committees with the dean and inclined to agree, said hurriedly: "What's all this stuff about dinosaurs and time travel?"

"Stuff and nonsense and Chinese whispers," said Cutter firmly. "Helen had developed this fixation with the Forest of Dean and claimed she had some ground-breaking research. If she did, she'd have published it long ago. Helen's never been one to hide her light under a bushel." 

"Is she likely to make trouble with this external role?" asked Sarah, topping up the wine glasses.

Cutter shrugged. "I'd say so. Helen will look on it as a chance to settle some old scores."

"I know a hostile external can be a menace and cause lots of unnecessary meetings, paperwork and associated angst, but there's ways to deal with them," said Lorraine, thinking of colleagues in sociology having to deal with a throwback from the 1960s who seemed to think the revolution should be starting at CMU. "You can thank them for their advice and then ignore it."

"Not with this dean," said Cutter gloomily. "He'll hang on her every word and when Helen says jump, he'll ask how high."

And with that pessimistic thought, they stared into their glasses in silence.


End file.
